


If You Reach Me In Time

by heatherandochre



Series: the rumble, the word, the way [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherandochre/pseuds/heatherandochre
Summary: In which the worst of the Eden’s Gate Project is ameliorated by a viral video resulting in the establishment of several sister communes all over the states. With the extra attention from LEO’s on them as well as the sudden patronage of well funded, well-connected members, there’s no opportunity for the worst excesses of the Cult. Instead, they pivot to extreme privacy in the head branch, located in Hope County, Montana, and build an elaborate reputation as a mysterious secluded commune. For three days every year highly vetted people pay extraordinary amounts of money to hear the sermon of Joseph Seed and to see behind those famed closed Gates.Mathias Theoden Rook, a new hire deputy has the dubious luck of winning the station lottery and the honour of “protecting” the Seed’s during the event. With problems of his own and a broken heart to nurse, Mathias has no interest in the byzantine relationships between the three present Herald’s, let alone John Seed’s sudden violent interest in him.Rook is stuck behind unfriendly lines when the commune goes into lockdown. One of the Herald’s has gone missing.
Relationships: Male Deputy | Judge/John Seed
Series: the rumble, the word, the way [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548880
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	If You Reach Me In Time

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyyy. So this one will get regular updates after I Will Be Here wraps in a couple of weeks. I should have a posting schedule up over on my tumblr. 
> 
> As always I used the Author Chooses Not to Warn tag but I always put chapter specific triggers in the top note. If you ever, at any time, come across something that needs to be warned for don't hesitate to tell me.

* * *

“God, please be the Rookie.” Staci slides to his knees on the station floor. “If you’re up there let it be the Rookie.”

Joey nudges him with her boot. “Pratt.”

Staci leans back and throws open his arms, eyes closed. Theo bites his lip to keep from laughing. Staci cracks an eye. “I am  _ praying,  _ Joey, for salvation. You haven’t been on Peggie Patrol in two years. You have forgotten what it is to be under Jacob Seed’s huge fucking workboot.”

“Uh-huh.” Joey grows smug, crosses her arms. “I took the weekend off, also Jacob is staying in the Whitetails this year.”

“So it’ll be John Seeds fancy heel, not a huge difference.”

“Pull the trigger, boss.” Joey kicks Staci again. “End this quickly.”

“So  _ now  _ I’m worth paying attention to?” Whitehorse shoots Theo an amused look before he sticks his hand in Nancy’s old cookie bag. The rustle of the paper slips is deafening in the bullpen but after ten seconds he pulls one out. 

He gives Theo an  _ apologetic _ look now. “Sorry kid.”

Staci jumps to his feet, hands in the air. “Yes! Grace  _ be  _ to the Lord!-”

Whitehorse pulls a second slip. “You’re going to the Whitetails.”

“ _ Do you want me to die? _ ”

Everyone laughs, even if Staci’s whining eventually turns dead serious. The Whitetails are a hassle between the Militia and Jacob’s Chosen but the long weekend -which is more like ten days, altogether- of the Eden’s Gate Retreat is a special kind of hell. He’d been in town for the last one, on vacation with an old workmate who wanted to show Theo what he was getting in for before he transferred from Vice in New York to Deputy in the county home to the capital of one of the countries most influential religious sects. Theo had been in recovery for physical injuries and the resulting painkiller addiction. Jittery, anxious, his usually long rope on his terrifying temper frayed to fibre, Theo watched as a strange collection of religious leaders, prepper YouTubers, genuine representatives of separatist militias and a few far-left progressives came to listen to a preacher speak in a falling down church. Vasquez, his old mentor, had wanted him on edge and suspicious. Theo was mostly confused: he stood behind Joseph Seed in line for coffee once, the man was playing  _ Kitty Leapz _ on a near decade-old iPhone. 

Apparently, a triple espresso drinking Grand Meowster is one of the most dangerous men in America. 

Theo transferred despite the dire warnings of all of his colleagues and found family. Hope County, with its dirt roads, kind-hearted strangers and weirdly sexual theming was exactly what he needed after- Well, after. His life split in two. Before, New York, and After, Hope County. Fucking  _ Rake.  _

Theo flicks the band around his wrist.

“What do I need to know?” Theo knows he used to be an upbeat, cheerful person. His face now just seems to fall into  _ tired, frowning.  _ “Is the class solidarity of the particular heel important?”

Staci grins, sitting back down in his actual chair. “You’ve met Jacob -we’ve  _ all  _ met Jacob. And you’ve met the Father, Joseph.” Theo nods along. His house is adjacent to Peggie land and they all spent a day fixing the shared fence. Theo in his old work shirt from way back when he did some roofing with his Uncle and cut off jean shorts. Joseph Seed in a baffling combination of painted on black jeans and a white shirt. Funny, for how Theo has generations of family in Brooklyn who dressed like that, in one way or another, and Joseph Seed for all his southern accent handles a hammer like it was him on rooftops earning a summer wage. “We know each other. Intense man.” Mathias Theoden Rook stopped being allowed into churches when he was fourteen, soul beyond saving with his hand down Victor Reyes pants. Victor, he noticed on Facebook, married the Pastor’s daughter. What part of this he imparted to one Father Seed was not convincing enough to stop the weekly invites. 

Joey snorts. “John’s worse.”

“You only say that because you don’t do speed patrol in the mountains.” Staci counters.

Whitehorse hums unhappily. “Deputies.”

Theo casts a fairweather look to the door. Nancy is a member of the congregation from long before they got famous. Over the years she has painfully distanced herself from her life up there, unable to deal with the wide array of associated groups. Most notably the racist, anti-semitic ones. Whitehorse very deliberately gave her two weeks off over the whole thing and they pooled together to get her a cheap cruise with her sister in California. But Nancy, being Nancy, refused to leave until today, two days before. She’s kept herself on the phones listening for news good or bad from the Compounds. The first to know when the people she left her home for arrive, first to know when it’s safe to try again. 

Theo heads out with Joey’s basic rundown of the Seeds ( _ crazy, crazier, fuck him, I heard a rumour he ate someone _ ), then Pratt’s ( _ a forty-minute long lecture about Jacob that is only twenty per cent the start of a gay porn, a real comedown from six weeks ago)  _ and Whitehorse's, who calmly reminds him that he has a higher security clearance than any of them. That Whitehorse also tells him to stock up on his preferred vice goes a little lower on the list, only because Theo knows that Whitehorse  _ doesn’t  _ know he used to take oxy like candy. He’d even texted Jerome who helped him move in ( _ fanatical, unfaithful, deceptive, self-centred,  _ **_heretical_ ** _ \-  _ they never got past Joseph) and Nick ( _ FUCK JOHN SEED WE DID NOT HAVE A THREESOME _ ). He’s tempted to call up Adelaide, who sold him the house, to try and get something on Faith but honestly after Nick’s long-winded message that did not actually clear up the threesome, whatever local opportunistic cougar Adelaide could have to say is unlikely to shed any light. It would be funny. Very funny. Not useful. 

Theo drives a huge pick up he got when his Uncle’s business expanded. It’s dark grey with skulls on the side from his graffiti artist cousin as well as a thin blue line decal he hates but can’t justify getting rid of. He thinks about getting a dog to go along with it. He’d had fish in New York but he lost them in the break-up. He puts his go-bag packed with a few extra sets of clothes in the back. He’d already assumed it would be him going to the Compound. He’s the rookie, after all.

The way to Eden’s Gate is private and patrolled for about an hour before the compound so he nips in to pick up some cigarettes, a new set of headphones and a disgusting amount of Werthers Originals. He chucks all of it on the counter and does a lazy round to pick up random shit. He idly turns the sunglasses rack, looking to replace a pair broken by local pyro Charlemagne in an accidental standoff a few weeks ago. His broke at the nose and they make Pratt so pissy Theo is tempted to think he cares. 

The array of yellow glasses lasts for three-quarters of the sunglass rack. Theo turns them round and round looking for a plain black pair. He’d forgotten for a moment that Eden’s Gate was famous enough for Halloween costumes, souvenir shops and comedy skits. Eventually, he finds a pair of knock offs. They’re aviator style, slick and charcoal with a little wing sticker decal on the sides. When he puts them on he almost smiles. He looks like a version of himself that’s still got  _ it.  _ The soul in the eyes, heart on his sleeve look that made him good at handling shit. Combative witnesses, grieving parents, the mindfuck bureaucracy of policing in general. Vasquez always thought it was a lie, that Rook had some innate deception. If fucking only. He might’ve seen it all coming. For better or worse that's who is deep down: a total fucking sucker. 

Rook keeps the sunglasses on his head after he pays and dumps his haul in the back. He rests his head against the wheel and breathes. Gangs, militias, cults and the vortex of  _ personality  _ he’s been assured by everyone the Seeds are. For three days. With no backup. “Oh,  _ fuck _ .”

\--

Peggies, as he’s heard them called, are the followers of Eden’s Gate. There are diminutives within that follow the specific teachings of each Herald. Only the ones who live with the Father and his Heralds are Peggies. The rest are just Followers, not Chosen or Faithful or Angels or anything else. From what he knows it was Mary May and her shotgun that first called them Peggies. As in _get your Peggie ass out of my_ _place of business._ Then Scott who runs one of the convenience stores. Then Christine who runs whores out on the highway. You get the picture. 

The Peggie that checks Rook through the second to last checkpoint has dead eyes and  _ Pride _ scrawled on his neck. His hands are scarred and branded with the Eden’s Gate symbol and there’s something almost...peaceful about the way he signs off Theo’s name. God that sounds nice. Just feeling peaceful.

Theo drives on. Until a few years ago everyone had to be flown in. Pratt’s first year on ‘Peggie Patrol’ was spent in the pilot seat. He flew in six members of a Portland ‘white advocacy’ group. The flight took a half hour and by the end of it Staci Pratt had honestly considered quitting. The second Theo heard this story he assumed it would be his job now. Just as brown- _ maybe _ -tanned- _ probably _ -Mexican as Pratt but nearly a decade older and far more comfortable in proximity to bigotry. Theo can’t fly a plane or a helicopter but he can drive a truck to meet some fucking nazi’s on their own turf. Joseph’s turf. 

As he gets closer the bumpy gravel road gets paved and then marbled. A fucking marble driveway in the middle of Montana. It’s not  _ huge per-se _ , but it starts before the last set of gates and stops about ten metres beyond them. The marble, he’s heard, was a generous gift from an overseas aficionado who wanted the Father’s path to be gilded and smooth. He also heard that Joseph Seed once went at it with a sledgehammer for three days and that what remained was removed from his sight. It’s here now, at a gate he doesn’t give a shit about and doesn’t use, not on his island with his church and his people. Theo makes a note of this in his head and in his notebook.

He floats through the last set of gates and is directed into a long stay car park by a cheery woman he thinks Nancy used to live with. Clarice? He makes a pure mental note to ask sometime in the future, parks his car, gets his gear and follows the directions over to the strange dock they’re going to use to get to the island proper. Clarice (?) takes him gently by the arm and leads him away from the giant arrow he’d been following. 

“I don’t think you want to take the boat with them, sweetheart.” She points to the brambled magnolia insignia on their arms. Well fuck. Genuine domestic terrorists. “Come with me, hun, you’re Nancy’s new boy? She said you’re awful sweet.”

“Clarice, right?” 

“Clarita! Clarice is what I use here.” She leans over and her dark eyes sparkle. “I'm not all the way off the grid like some folk, I’ve got two grandbabies that need to find me.”

Clarice can’t be more than forty-five. Theo makes a note here, too. “Did Nancy ask you to look out for me?”

“Said they’d send up the new kid.” Her voice tilts mockingly because, yeah, Theo is clearly a well kept thirty-six. “And give poor Staci a break. Especially since Brother Jacob isn’t here to keep things civil.” Clarice’s smile grows tight. “Be careful, sweetheart. Things are...different this year.”

She doesn’t say anything more, just leads them over to nicer boat than the ones the terrorists are using. Faster, with an Eden’s Gate symbol on the side. In the boat sits a man and a huge white wolf. One of the Judges Theo has heard so much about. The man has the same clarity of purpose as the others he’s seen on guard. Clarice gives him a wan smile and takes his things to stowaway. The man gives her a sharp look, assessing, shifting so she can sit next to him. He looks after her first and only then gives Theo the benefit of his heavy assessment.

“This is Nancy’s boy, Gerald.” Clarice holds out her hands, showing track marks. “He’s here to help us.” Gerald seems to ease back and says something to the Judge. Theo climbs into the boat with Clarice’s help. He doesn’t get the feeling that the relationship between Clarice and Gerald is romantic but it’s certainly intimate. 

As they speed the short distance to the island, Theo turns to Clarice. “Mathias, by the way. Mathias Theoden Rook.” Theo smiles and hopes the sunglasses on his head do some heavy lifting. “I go by Rook at work but for one of Nancy’s friends, it’s Theo.”

“Theo.” Clarice tries out. “Well, Theo, I’ll be around all weekend. Just ask anyone of the flock for me and they’ll point you along. Should I use Rook in front of others?”

Theo forces the smile brighter. “I’d appreciate it.”

Gerald spends the whole trip with his eyes trained on Theo’s jugular. Theo pretends not to notice. 

The whole island leads to the church. While Theo helps Gerald moor the boat he notices that buildings titled with the Latin sins have been co-opted to instead display the names of the four factions staying this weekend, as well as a fifth  _ misc  _ over Ira. Theo supposes he’s  _ misc.  _

Lust: the Conservative Conservation Project. A hard right group with huge lobbying power. Pride: the Meredith Johnston Project. A group of billionaire investors. Envy: James, Jameston & Jameson. Lawyers. Gluttony: the Barbed Wolves. An ‘anarchist’ eco-terrorism group, the ones with the barbed magnolia symbol. 

Misc is fine. 

Theo finds his assigned bed sitting behind some hastily erected cloth walls. The room is more used to bunk beds then singles judging by the scratches on the floor, hastily covered with handmade rugs bearing the Eden's Gate symbol. The fancy linen sheets and flowers on the pillow can’t quite hide the scent of a working farm on the air but the Peggies are clearly trying. It’s almost nice with all the little bespoke touches. He can see shapes moving through the low candlelight, silhouetted on the canvas. There’s no true privacy but the mood is romantic and peaceful. Like a nice Air BNB. Theo changes, wondering who might be looking at his ass as he does so, into a pair of fitted jeans and a night green long-sleeved shirt. He changes into his expensive boots and puts his hair up into a bun. He has no idea what the dress code for this is but his gut says staying in his uniform is a terrible plan. He pulls out his thick leather jacket, passed from his father to his brother to him, stuffs his Werthers Originals in the pockets, his notebook in his back pocket and his gun for an easy side pull. Chapstick and a stern talking-to later, he's ready to go meet his liaison. 

He heads for a big tent erected in one of the few open areas. It’s huge and pinstripe like some sort of carnival Big Tent. From his angle of approach, he can see two industrial-sized food stations and the fanciest outdoor toilets he’s ever seen. There’s bathrooms all around but the bathing facilities sit out towards the back of the island. He imagines they’ve also been done up for the weekend but perhaps not to the standard some of the guests are used to. 

A man about his height with fairly broad shoulders stands talking to one of the Peggiesjust outside the entrance. He's got a lean, almost hungry energy to him. Long legs and well-muscled forearms. Neat dark beard and a small amount of hair falling over his forehead in a neat curl. His blue shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, damp at the elbows and unbuttoned over some interesting collarbone ink. When his eyes flick up they're a shocking bright blue. 

“I thought it would be Josephina.”

Ah. “You must be John.” Only John Seed calls Joey  _ Josephina.  _ Not even Jacob, a dedicated fucking asshole, calls her by her first name. “I’m Mathias Rook. Rook for short, though.”

John makes an interested noise. “Not Mathias?”

“I have seven cousins around the same age also called Mathias, Matthew or Matteo. Big family.” And a granduncle that passed a year beforehand. “If you have somewhere for me to set up?”

John gives him a long thorough look that Theo ignores largely due to spending his early twenties in hardcore gay clubs. It’s a pretty amusing look to get from a guy running a cult. Theo is aware that he’s an unusual mix of features born of his fathers' unknown mixed origin and his mothers' complicated Native ancestry. Pitch black, curling hair. Tanned skin a few shades too red-dark to ever  _ pass _ except at the discretion of others. Dark green-blue eyes and ever-present crows feet. He’s slim, not built, but he doesn’t stop or slow down once he gets going and he can carry a lot of weight. It would be a swimmers build if he was broader or a climbers build if he was taller. Theo eases into the ravenous, exploratory look of a man-attracted-to-another-man. John Seed can look but this is Theo’s job and he doesn’t fuck on company time. Even with his easy good looks and well-manicured appearance, he’s not Theo’s type. Not anymore. 

“Well.” John smiles. It doesn’t reach the eyes. He turns and strikes off. “This way _Rook_ _.  _ We were told of your coming.”

\--

He manages a civil conversation with John Seed while they have an early dinner -something Joey can't do for love nor money. Theo had removed his jacket, forgetting this shirt doesn’t hide his forearms or the back of his neck. John takes one look, makes some noise Theo can not begin to decipher, then shoots off trying to find out what they mean. Theo has technical answers for the personal question. Thank Rake for that one, he supposes. He'd been absolutely covered in gorgeous masterwork and more than capable of doing them himself. For their sixth anniversary, he'd hand-drawn and tattooed nearly two-fifths of Theo's body. From just below his neck to his ass. Front and back left side and half a sleeve up from the wrist. Birds, hands and flowers across his shoulders. A Japanese style snake curling down his inner thigh. Demon's in undergrowth on his back and the outline of an angel winding along his front, the stretch of his lower stomach holding her feet, bound by the vines growing from just above his groin.  _ His battleground,  _ Rake had said, and if Theo had any sense he'd have seen the blows coming then. 

Theo does not have the good sense God gave a crumpet.

Band:  _ flick _ .

He watches the room. John seems to be taking Theo’s lack of consistent attention personally but, shit, guys like John are a dime a dozen in New York. He’d hate it if he had Theo’s full attention, too. The room is half Peggies and half visitors. The tables are hand-hewn and sanded down, ten to a placing, except for the Heralds table which seats five. Four Heralds and their chosen guest. The food is simple and so fucking good Theo visibly considers converting for a full five minutes. It passes, largely because a guy with a swastika on his neck walks by, but he knows how they’d get him if they ever tried. 

A woman, small, fine-boned and blonde, takes a seat next to them.

“Hey, Faith.” Theo slides her a small dish of greens someone brought around. "How’s the outpatient group?”

“Good.” Faith smiles at the room. Several men smile back. “None of them will be here this weekend. Too much going on.”

John dabs his mouth with a napkin. “You know each other?” 

Theo turns to look at him. John only has eyes for Faith. “I used to work Vice. When I came out here I saw that there was a community program for youth substance abuse.” Theo swallows hard. “I always hated walking in to find that not only were the parents doing all kinds of shit but they’d gotten their twelve-year-olds hooked too.”

John’s face goes soft and affectionate. Big blue eyes find his. It’s...a lot. “I see. You’re our police liaison? Help the kids find their new path?”

Theo laughs. “No. I volunteer. I have some skill in construction  _ and  _ a useless art degree-”

Faith pokes him. “It is not useless Rook! The kids loved going to Missoula with you!”

“-as well as a big, stupid truck to haul stuff in.”

“You’re kind.” John muses. He looks at Faith for a moment, something inscrutable in his eyes. “Does Joseph know you’re here yet?”

“No.”

“I thought you were going to stay with Jacob?”

“No.”

“Do you have another answer?”

“Yes.” Faith says, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth toned. “It’s a lot for  _ just you  _ to handle John.” 

Interesting. Theo makes no move to interrupt, ears on the sibling argument and an eye on who might be watching. Only one man is paying active attention to the Herald’s table. A man with the Barbed Wolves symbol on his face. Theo locks eyes with him, the whole world fading out and the malevolence in the green eyes staring back at him rising until he feels it, thick, against his skin-

Johns hand slaps onto his shoulder. “Time to go over the rules.” He stands and throws his arms open. “Welcome! More will arrive overnight. The Father has decided to grace us at breakfast so he may see you all together!” John seems uncaring that he doesn’t have the full groups attention. “I am sure you read your briefs,“-Theo absolutely did not- “and you know that no drugs, alcohol or other in-tox-i-cants are allowed,“-what  _ is  _ he doing with that pronunciation- “and that we have a zero-tolerance policy for  _ shenanigans.  _ No politics, no phones and absolutely no talking about religion.”

A few of the Peggies laugh. 

A thick chested man in a leather vest stands. “I’m sorry who the fuck are you?” He points at John, his similarly attired friends all around him nodding along. A few of the Peggies are seated with them clearly uncomfortable with the raised voices and the muttering. “Why should I care?”

Theo frowns, thoughtful. If he’s truly a member of the church wouldn’t he know who John is? Faith seemed to think John wouldn’t be up to the task  _ by himself  _ so is this one of those things that Jacob used to handle? Unlikely. Jacob is not in any way a people person. John might be, maybe, he’s certainly got the looks for it but his manner... Jacob isn’t here but pretty, soft Faith is. And John. John is here when Joseph isn’t. 

John turns his body from the hips to address the heckler. “I am John the Baptist, Frank O’Leary. You may not know me but you do know my apprentice, Martin?” His voice turns sly. Sly-er still when Frank shrinks back. “Yes, Martin knows you and as he named you Avarice, I know you too.” John smiles and it has none of the soft intensity he’s been drowning Theo in. “Let’s not dwell, though, hmm? You’re keeping your fellow believers from their dinner.”

John returns to his seat and casual cuts open his still bloody venison. He picks up a totally different conversation with faith and they both cheerily ignore him. At some point, John leans back and tucks his arm around the back of Theo’s chair. 

Theo has notions about these people. Thoughts built out of the community that’s lived around and among them for years before they got famous. Jacob Seed may be training an honest to god doomsday army in the Whitetails but he’s also giving Pratt a meltdown over his weekly faux-break up arguments with Eli Palmer on their territorial border. Faith Seed may be recruiting vulnerable people to participate in her rehabilitation programs that have no exit date, but she’s been dating Tracey on and off for ten years to the point of having a couples song on hold at the bar. John may be recording blackmail information and using it as leverage but he also uses the same tailor as Dr Lindsey and they’ve full-on scraped in the parking lot over Christmas appointments. 

And of course, the Father, who orders bad coffee and Theo once helped pass a whole chapter of levels in  _ Kitty Leapz. _

People who don’t give a damn that they’re powerful. People who’d shoot them for being  _ annoying,  _ not dangerous. It’s a whole other thing to watch John Seed bend a man into a pretzel with a smile. 

Theo isn’t thinking of Rake but he flicks the band anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over at Sparrowsandswallows on tumblr. I'm usually around to reply to comments for the first couple of days but if you have something you really need me to know that's a slightly more reliable way to reach me. 
> 
> That's right: John runs apprenticeships! What a horrid fucking prospect!
> 
> Tune in next chapter when Joseph has to give a surprise Fox News interview.


End file.
